


you left a mark (up and down my skin)

by NinjaKitten



Category: Misfits (TV 2009)
Genre: Angst, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Discipline, Dubious Consent, Hardcore Snuggling, Lack of Communication, M/M, Spanking, sex while high
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 07:25:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8788924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinjaKitten/pseuds/NinjaKitten
Summary: Nathan’s always had trouble realising when he’s hurting the people around him.When communication fails, Simon has to find another way to keep his boyfriend in line. Set after 2x02.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Java1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Java1/gifts).



> This is for Java1, who requested a fic with Nathan spanking Simon. This is not that fic, but I hope you like its mutated form. 
> 
> If anyone else would like to leave prompts for Misfits fics (especially for this pairing), I’m considering taking some as long as I have time to fill them.
> 
> Warning time, this isn’t correct BDSM practice and has absolutely awful communication between partners. Ask for tags if there’s anything I missed!
> 
> Title’s from Nine Inch Nails again, this time it's _Discipline_. Go listen to it, it’s sexy.

“There’s no point in keeping it secret. Everyone here already knows,” Simon says as he tugs closed the zip on Nathan’s jumpsuit.  
It’s probably still going to be immediately obvious that they’ve been in here exchanging handjobs instead of doing their community service; they can at least try to be subtle about it.

“I know you don't have a life outside community service, but I do have other friends.” Nathan twists around in Simon’s hold, letting his hands brush over Nathan’s arse and settle on his hips.

He presses back against Simon to get enough room to open his locker and start pulling stuff out, trying to find his phone. The mess of dirty clothes and dirtier magazines are probably going to make it difficult.

“I just wanted to go out.” They’re only ever been on one date, and that was to a nightclub. Simon wants to take Nathan out properly.

“I can’t help that it would ruin my reputation if it were publicly known I’m dating a paedo.”

Anger flares inside Simon. He _hates_ that and Nathan knows it. Without thinking Simon brings his hand down hard on Nathan’s arse.

“What the fuck?” Nathan turns around and shoves Simon away.

“I told you not to call me that.”

“So you decided to spank me? I’m not fucking five!”

Curtis chooses that moment to enter the locker room. He goes straight to his locker, not noticing the tension, but it still forces them to fall silent.  
“Freak,” Nathan mumbles, shoving his phone into his pocket.

Simon turns to his own locker, heat rising in his cheeks. Why did he have to go and do that? He watches Nathan, trying not to be obvious about it. Nathan’s roughly pulling his clothes on, slamming his locker door. The noise makes Simon flinch.

An apology isn’t going to be good enough. He has to make this up to Nathan somehow. If there was something Simon could do…

There is one thing. Judging by how much Nathan goes on about it, it’s probably what he wants more than anything.

Isn’t there some rule about not using sex as a bargaining chip in relationships? Simon’s almost willing to try it anyway.

Nathan slams his locker door closed and turns to Kelly. Simon listens in from behind Nathan, pretending to be looking for something in his own locker.

“Want to go for a drink?” Nathan’s position makes it clear who the invitation extends to, as if his behaviour the last time they fought didn’t make this situation predictable. He’s going to go out with Kelly, get completely pissed, then come back and try to talk Simon into sex. Simon toys with the idea of following them, invisible—but Nathan would be angry if he found out. Maybe enough to break up. Still, the idea is tempting and it’s all Simon can think about as Nathan and Kelly have a teasing argument about which pub to go to.

In the end, Simon doesn’t follow them. He just sneaks back into the community centre in the middle of the night to see if Nathan’s gotten home yet.

He has, and he’s asleep. Simon checks his phone. Any normal person would be at this time of the night. What is he _doing_? This is ridiculous. Simon had promised himself he’d never try to control his relationship with Nathan, and now he’s practically stalking him.

Simon kneels beside the thin mattress. Nathan’s curled up on his side and Simon isn’t sure how much his own bias is responsible for making Nathan seem so young and vulnerable. Simon hesitantly stretches out a hand, but draws it back before he touches Nathan’s bare shoulder. After what happened, he can’t imagine Nathan being pleased to wake up to Simon petting him.

The centre is freezing at night but Nathan isn’t wearing a shirt. He’s ridiculously skinny, almost breakable looking. Simon focuses on quietly drawing the thick blanket up over Nathan. He was shivering a little. If this also prevents Simon from looking at him anymore… well, it’s for the best.

Simon straightens up and is about to leave when Nathan rolls over. Simon realises he’s curled around a bundle of rough fabric, and in the same moment remembers where he’s seen that before. Nathan makes a small sound and opens his eyes. Not a second too soon, Simon’s invisible. It’s getting easier these days.

His boyfriend—ex-boyfriend? Simon doesn’t know anymore—yawns and snuggles up under the blanket, hugging Jamie’s jacket tighter to his chest.

Simon goes home, where he lies in bed waiting for a phone call that never comes.

…

The next day is free from community service. With Nathan not speaking to him, the hours stretch empty in front of Simon. He has nothing to do but wait for the breakup text. Maybe the radio silence is Nathan’s way of splitting up with Simon without actually having to do it. This was always going to happen; Simon knew that. It was only a matter of when and how he would eventually fuck up. They’ve had arguments before, of course they had, but they had all been minor—and easily resolved in the storeroom or in Simon’s bed. This won’t be so easy.

What Simon did was wrong; he knows that. Hitting his boyfriend, as small an incident as it was, isn’t acceptable. Simon understands why Nathan hasn’t answered his texts. It still hurts.

It feels like it’s been weeks when the call finally does come.

Simon was startled out of his distraction when his phone rang, flashing Nathan’s name across the tiny screen.

“Nathan?”

“Hey. Can I come over?”

“Of course. What’s wrong—?”

Nathan’s hung up. Simon sighs and drops his phone on his desk. He supposes Nathan’s still going to come over, but when it comes to his boyfriend Simon’s never been sure of anything. Nathan might show up in two minutes, two hours, or not at all.

Simon waits outside anyway.

It’s dark and cold, but he has to make sure Nathan can get inside and up to the bedroom without waking anyone up. Simon leans against the wall and checks his phone again. It’s been half an hour.

Simon hears Nathan before he sees him. It’s a thud and a low curse, then through the dark Simon can just make out Nathan. Despite the weather, he’s only in a t-shirt and jeans. As he gets closer, Nathan stumbles and nearly trips into the wall but Simon catches him. Nathan’s freezing, and Simon holds him tightly, rubbing his bare skin to warm him up.

“Hi.” The word comes out slurred. No wonder Nathan isn’t feeling the cold.

“Are you okay?”

“Mm.” Nathan turns his head and kisses Simon’s neck.

Simon should push him off, but Nathan’s lips are warm on his skin and he’s missed this so much. Nathan’s hands were resting on Simon’s waist, underneath his shirt, but now they’ve slipped around to Simon’s back and are getting lower.

“Are we still together?” Simon asks before he realises how stupid it is to question that while Nathan’s touching him like this.

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“You’ve not been speaking to me.”

“I’m over it,” Nathan mumbles as he attacks Simon’s throat with wet kisses. That’s his weak spot and Nathan’s never been above exploiting it.

“I’m not.” Simon shoves Nathan off like he should have done the second this started. “Stay over if you want. I’m going inside.”

Nathan follows Simon to his bedroom in silence. It’s only when they’re in the light that Simon notices the blood, growing tacky, oozing from a cut on Nathan’s lip.

“Did someone hit you?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t hurt though.” Nathan kicks his shoes off and collapses on Simon’s bed.

Simon sits next to him, trying to ignore how tired he is. “Are you on something?”

Nathan groans and buries his face in Simon’s pillow by way of reply.

“I thought you were going to stop.”

“It’s one night. Do you really hate the idea that I might be out having fun?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m immortal.” Nathan’s voice is muffled but his irritation is clear.

“Does this have anything to do with Jamie?”

“Fucking shut up about it, alright?” Nathan sits up and kisses Simon, smearing blood between their mouths.

Simon presses his hands to Nathan’s chest but Nathan grabs his wrists and pins his hands by his sides. This kiss is just as messy and uncoordinated as the first time, after sharing an entire bottle of some awful cheap vodka. Nathan’s never been that good at snogging, and he still tastes like beer and smoke and blood but Simon doesn’t care. Without pulling away, Nathan pushes Simon back against the headboard and climbs into his lap. His hands are cold under Simon’s shirt and he’s almost tearing at the fabric. Simon gasps into Nathan’s mouth as nails scrape over his ribs, and it’s just on the edge of too painful. This isn’t unusual; Nathan’s always dominated him. At first it was because of Simon’s inexperience, and he appreciated it, but now Simon’s getting sick of Nathan pushing him around.

“Nathan”—Simon groans as Nathan grinds down against him—“slow down.”

Nathan doesn’t hear him or chooses not to, and Simon’s shirt is off before he realises what’s happening. Nathan drags his own t-shirt over his head and drops it to the floor. His tattoos are so clearly defined against his skin and Simon wants to know what sounds Nathan would make if he traced the marks with his tongue. He wants Nathan underneath him, desperate for Simon’s touch, like their last ‘sleepover’ when they just moved against each other until the friction brought them off.

They’d both liked it, but Nathan seems to want to do more than that now. He’s already groping Simon’s cock through his trousers and biting his neck, which usually feels nice but now it’s just slightly too hard. The room is far too hot and all Simon can do is hold Nathan to keep him steady and rub his thumb across the line of inked stars.

Everything slows for a moment as Nathan squirms out of his jeans and pants, leaving them in a pile on top of his shirt. For all the times they’ve gotten each other off, this is the first time Simon’s seen Nathan undressed. He touches him carefully, almost reverentially. Nathan’s skin is warm, now, and silk-soft and Simon’s hands fit perfectly over his hips. Nathan’s already hard, his cock smearing precome over Simon’s stomach.

“Condoms?” Nathan asks, drawing Simon’s attention away from his body.

“Top drawer. Are we going to…?”

“Fuck?” Nathan smirks at him. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Simon breathes out shakily, unable to answer. He’s scared, and not just of what will happen if he says no again. The idea of that much intimacy, after the last few days, is as bad as the thought that if he refuses, Nathan might leave. Simon had thought that what they’d done so far would be enough to keep Nathan interested. He should have known it couldn’t last forever.

Maybe Simon could offer to suck Nathan off instead. He doesn’t really want to, and he wouldn’t have a clue what he was doing, but it has to be better than—

"Yeah. Okay.”

Nathan gets off him, leaning over to open the drawer. “Take your clothes off, then.”

Simon does it slowly, resisting the urge to hide under the blankets when he’s done. Nathan’s never seen him without clothes before. He’s starting to feel mildly ill with the realisation that this is actually happening, as Nathan digs out a condom and the half-empty bottle of lube that Simon’s only ever used on his own

Too soon, Nathan pushes Simon onto his back and moves over him. The feeling of Nathan’s body against him, for the first time with nothing between them, is starting to lessen Simon’s conviction that this isn’t a good idea.

“My sister’s room is next to mine.”

“Then we’ll have to be quiet.” Nathan leans in and kisses Simon’s neck.

When Nathan pulls away to face him again, Simon realises that Nathan’s eyes are hazy and unfocused, pupils blown; from drugs or arousal, Simon’s not sure. They shouldn’t even be doing this if Nathan’s high, because he can’t really consent—Nathan wraps his hand around Simon’s cock, completely derailing his train of thought. It doesn’t last long before Nathan’s hand slips further down between Simon’s legs, pressing at his arse.

Simon’s done this to himself before, out of curiosity. He didn’t like it at all but he’s going to let Nathan do it, and he’s so on edge he only prays he’s not going to be sick. Nathan doesn’t waste any time in coating his fingers in lube and pressing the first in. Simon moans despite himself, because it really doesn’t feel that bad. Actually, it’s kind of the opposite, even though it stings slightly where Nathan hasn’t used enough lube.

Nathan quickly adds a second and a third, and it’s starting to hurt. Simon closes his eyes and presses his hand to his mouth, biting down hard to keep himself quiet. He’s not letting it show and Nathan’s still being too rough. Simon whimpers and shifts his hips as Nathan stretches him open, and it’s all too much too quickly.

“Ready?” Nathan removes his fingers, far too soon, and sits up.

 _No_. Simon grabs the condom just for something to do with his hands. He reaches forward and quickly puts it on Nathan, hoping he’s done it right. The last thing he needs is yet another reminder of how inexperienced he is.

Nathan quickly spreads lube over the latex and gets on top of Simon again. “Wrap your legs around me, yeah?” Nathan murmurs into Simon’s neck.

Simon does it, tilting his hips up to meet Nathan. He feels like he’s in a dream, as if he’s the one who’s high. He only hopes he doesn’t embarrass himself too quickly. Nathan reaches between them and guides himself in, slowly pushing forwards.

It _hurts_. Simon whines and arches his back as Nathan enters him in an instinctive effort to lessen the pain. The movement is easy, slick with lube, and Nathan doesn’t seem to notice Simon’s discomfort as he buries his cock inside his boyfriend.

Nathan shifts his hips, the sensation bringing a broken moan from Simon. He clings to Nathan, scraping short nails down his back. Nathan’s wetly sucking at his neck and Simon’s sure it’s going to leave a mark. Without warning, Nathan pulls out and thrusts back in hard, and Simon only just muffles his scream by sinking his teeth into his lower lip. Nathan’s moving properly now and Simon closes his eyes, breathing rapidly through gritted teeth, whimpering with every exhale. This should feel good, he knows it should, if Nathan could just hit the right place—

Simon releases his grip on Nathan’s shoulders, twisting his fingers in the blankets, watching Nathan fuck him. Nathan’s moaning with every thrust into Simon. He still looks so out of it, and Simon’s not sure he wants to know if Nathan even cares who he’s shagging. He’s moving quicker now and it’s starting to feel odd, almost pleasant, and Simon can only just get a hand between them to clumsily stroke his own dick. He’s hard, wanting Nathan’s touch, but he knows he isn’t going to get it.

Nathan brushes against _something_ inside Simon and pleasure curls up his spine. Simon moans and pushes back and hopes Nathan understands that he means do that again, _please_ , because he can’t bring himself to say it. Clearly Nathan didn’t pick up on it, because he’s fucking Simon again with those erratic thrusts that aren’t bringing any pleasure to temper the pain. Simon closes his eyes again and focuses on the movement of his own hand. It’s rough and a little too dry and it just isn’t getting him there. Simon groans in frustration and tightens his legs around Nathan.

The angle changes just a little and suddenly that pleasure is back, and it’s like fireworks with every push of Nathan’s cock inside Simon. Simon cries out, the sound loud in the room filled only with their mingled quick breathing and Simon’s muffled whimpers. For once Nathan’s quiet, not even bothering with his usual whispered dirty talk, typical of all the nights when they couldn’t afford to be loud.

Nathan’s fucking Simon harder, and that’s all this is, because it’s fast and rough and Nathan doesn’t care about anything other than getting off, chasing that final high, but Simon can still feel that familiar tightening in his stomach. He has the unwelcome thought that this is it, he’s given up his first time, and he shouldn’t be _doing this_ —

Simon can hardly breathe as he pushes into his hand and comes, quicker than he’d expected, and it’s one of those orgasms where he barely feels a thing, even though he knows it’s only just out of reach. The feeling doesn’t last, because Nathan hasn’t stopped or even slowed, still roughly fucking Simon’s oversensitive body. Simon closes his eyes and chews his lip, letting out muffled moans until Nathan grips Simon’s thigh, digging his fingers in, and Simon can feel the hot pulse of cum inside him.

Nathan’s still on top, breathing fast against Simon’s neck. Simon shifts uncomfortably, no longer wrapped around Nathan. Nathan pushes himself up so he’s no longer resting all his weight on Simon and his softening cock slips out of his boyfriend’s body.

Nathan presses a quick, almost perfunctory kiss to Simon’s lips then gets off him. “Fuck.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Condom broke.” Nathan drops the remains in the bin and collapses on the bed.

Simon swears under his breath. How could he have screwed that up? Either he’d put the condom on wrong or they were expired. They’ve never said anything about STIs. He’d stupidly just assumed Nathan didn’t have anything. He can’t even ask, before Nathan’s asleep in seconds.

Simon wants to join him, but he just lies there on the sheets messy with sweat and cum, and feels an absurd desire to cry. He should be happy; he’s just lost his virginity to his boyfriend, who he loves even if they haven’t said those words yet. His boyfriend who barely looked at him the whole time.

It sounds terrible and clichéd but Simon wanted his first time to be special. Not necessarily candles and rose petals, but not a drug-fuelled quickie either. Nathan had barely kissed him once they took their clothes off; it was like he was just using Simon for an orgasm. When Simon looks at the clock, he realises it had all been over in less than twenty minutes.

Everything still hurts. It’s not agonising, but Nathan’s bitten him so hard his teeth marks must be visible in Simon’s neck. There’s a steady dull ache between Simon’s legs that isn’t helped by the unpleasantly wet, sticky feeling. Shower before bed, then.

Simon’s careful not to wake Nathan as he gets out of bed. What’s he supposed to do if someone’s on drugs? It’s probably not worth rolling Nathan onto his side, because he wouldn’t die if he puked and choked on it. He’d better not, because Simon isn’t the mood to clean that up. Then again, Nathan could have been on ecstasy. Nathan stirs when Simon moves him, but quickly cuddles against the pillow and goes quiet again.

The shower helps things. Once Simon’s washed sweat and semen from his skin, he just stays under the heated spray of water. This is all his fault. If he hadn’t made things so awkward between them…

Even with all the steam in the bathroom, Simon can feel heat rising in his cheeks as he remembers the moment in the locker room. It had definitely shut Nathan up. Simon would be lying if he said he hadn’t enjoyed it, just a bit. Honestly, Nathan has a fantastic arse and Simon would never pass up a chance to get his hands on his boyfriend. He wonders what Nathan’s perfect soft skin would look like all marked up from his hand. Simon bites his lip as he loosely curls his hand around his cock. He starts stroking himself as he imagines them in one of those films he’s watched, Simon taking Nathan over his knee and spanking him. Or having Nathan tied to his bed, pulling against the restraints, trying to get himself off. Would he plead to be released, or would he beg for more? Simon wants him to. As the movement of his hand quickens, Simon thinks about Nathan pleading to be hit again, pushing his arse back against Simon’s hand, insisting he needs to be punished—

Simon comes quicker than he has in a long time, coating his fingers and spattering the glass in front of him.

As he cleans up, Simon thinks, feeling uncomfortably guilty, that he’d enjoyed that orgasm more than the one he’d had while Nathan was inside him. And it was because he was thinking about _hitting_ his boyfriend. Simon’s done the covert research; he knows about impact play and safewords and aftercare, but he still just got himself off thinking about beating Nathan, who has never consented to anything of the sort.

When he returns to bed, Simon lies down facing away from Nathan. He’s surprised to feel Nathan cuddle up to him from behind. He knows his boyfriend’s seeming affection is just because Nathan gets cold when he sleeps. It’s still comforting, and combined with the effects of his two orgasms, it’s not long before Simon’s asleep.

…

Simon rolls over, still half-asleep, instinctively seeking warmth. When he reaches out for Nathan, his hand brushes cold sheets and he’s instantly awake. Simon sits up, blankets pooling around his waist. Other than the condom in the bin and the mess on the sheets, there’s no sign that Nathan was there at all.

When Simon checks his phone for a text, which is probably expecting too much of Nathan, he realises he should have been up ages ago. If he skips breakfast, and puts off changing his sheets until that night, he might make it to community service. Maybe Simon just shouldn’t bother. He’s still sore, and for once he isn’t looking forward to seeing Nathan.

Simon still has half a mind to turn around and go home, even once he’s at the centre and explaining himself to Shaun. He gets away with a lie about his alarm not going off, and is dismissed to the locker room—the last place he wants to be right now.

Nathan’s still getting changed. He seems wholly unaffected by the previous night, not even turning when Simon comes in even though Nathan must have seen him in the mirror. It wasn’t like Simon had expected Nathan to consider sex that important. But between them… Nathan had told him he was _different_. That this wasn’t just some physical thing. Maybe he lied to Simon like he used to lie to girls in bars.

Simon had asked a while ago, when they first talked about doing it, if Nathan had ever slept with a man. Assuming he had told the truth back then, it had been his first time last night too, in a way.

The locker room had emptied while Simon was lost in thought. He quickly changes and goes after the others, who are split up around the centre. Nathan’s alone, playing with his phone on a battered sofa. Simon stays quiet as he walks up to his boyfriend.

“Where’ve you been?” Nathan hangs off the edge of the sofa, looking at Simon upside down.

Simon shrugs, doesn’t answer. It’s not like Nathan gives a shit.

“Do you want to go to the storeroom?”

“No.”

“You don’t have to be such a bitch about it.”

“Why didn’t you stay?”

“I was hungover. I didn’t want to throw up all over you.”

“I wanted you there. After what we did…”

Nathan sits up. “It was just sex.”

“It was my first time,” Simon points out. He sits next to Nathan, leaving more space between them than they’re used to.

“I didn’t think about that.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, Simon.” Nathan slides closer.

When Simon turns, Nathan slips a hand around the back of Simon’s neck. He gently tilts Simon’s head back and kisses him, slow and heated, and Simon fucking melts. He wants to focus on the actual problem here, but Nathan’s putting everything he has into this kiss and… he can’t.

“Do you have to do that now?”

Simon doesn’t really want to keep snogging in front of Alisha, because it’s kind of awkward, but Nathan’s holding him so he can’t pull away. Nathan evidently isn’t feeling his exhibitionist tendencies today, because he bites down softly on Simon’s lower lip and pulls away.

“We’ll talk later, yeah?”

Simon nods wordlessly and watches Nathan walk away.

“Are you okay?” Alisha gives him a small smile.

“Everything’s fine.”

…

Kelly corners him before lunch. “What’s going on with you and Nathan?”

“Nothing.”

“I heard you thinking about it. Did you split up?”

“I don’t think so.”

Alisha scoffs. “How can you not know if you’re still together?”

“I thought Nathan ended it, but last night he came over.”

“And?”

Simon gives Kelly a pointed look.

“Oh. Right.” She wrinkles her nose.

Alisha chuckles. “Congratulations.”

“I think he was on something. And he’d been in a fight.”

“Again?”

“It’s happened before?”

“Once, I guess. Have you talked to him about it?”

“I tried. You know what he’s like.”

Alisha breaks into the conversation again. “Maybe you need to try something else.”

“What do you mean?”

“Blokes like Nathan don’t talk about their feelings. Try another way of getting him to understand.”

“I didn’t know having a boyfriend would be so hard,” Simon says, half to himself.

“We could have told you that.” Kelly grinds out her cigarette with the toe of her trainer. “Come on, then.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure. Just stop fucking snogging in front of us, yeah?” Alisha smiles at him again and this time it looks real.

…

Simon goes home with the intention of fixing things that night. Maybe he could ask Nathan over and pretend it’s for sex? No, Simon’s too easily talked into things once Nathan’s fixed on something. He could say something was wrong, but then Nathan might worry or get pissed off when he found out Simon was lying.

In the end, it’s sorted out for him. Simon’s phone chirps with the full battery alert, and as he’s unplugging it Simon realises he’s missed a text. Nathan had sent it about half an hour ago. It’s one of his typical drunk messages, the text abbreviations even more unreadable than usual. Simon thinks he recognises the name of a club that Nathan had taken him to last month.

Simon’s grabbed his jacket and is outside before he’s even really made a conscious decision to look for Nathan. It’s not that Nathan can’t take care of himself—as he keeps reminding Simon—but Simon doesn’t want to see him hurt. Considering what happened last time, Simon’s a little worried about what kind of state Nathan’s going to be in when he eventually finds him. There’s also a small part of him that’s preoccupied with the thought of Nathan going home with someone else. Simon doesn’t really think that Nathan would cheat on him, but the other night…

Nathan’s phone rings through to voicemail again. Simon doesn’t bother leaving a message, because Nathan never checks them. It’s not a sign that anything’s wrong; Nathan wouldn’t hear his phone over the music, or distinguish the vibrations from the bass. At least that’s what Simon tells himself.

As he approaches the club, Simon waits until there’s no one close enough to notice him disappearing. He’s not paying entry just to go in and drag his boyfriend out. It’s going to be nearly impossible to find Nathan anyway, if the club is as packed as it was last time. Simon’s starting to think this is a pointless exercise. He tries Nathan’s phone again, just in case, because if he doesn’t try everything he can and something happens –

Simon can hear Nathan’s ringtone. He follows it, still invisible, avoiding a group of girls in short dresses huddled together for warmth. He’s not sure what he’s going to find. Nathan could have lost his phone. Simon prays that that’s what’s happened because if not, Nathan’s too preoccupied or unable to answer his calls. It might not even be Nathan’s phone. He’s only left it on the generic ring that probably comes with half the phones in England.

Simon keeps his power on as his eyes adjust to the dark of the alley he’s been led to; he’s not sure what he’s going to find. As he gets used to the lack of light, the shape against the far wall resolves into Nathan. He’s slumped against the far wall—passed out, perhaps.

Simon’s steps falter as he gets closer. He’s let his invisibility slip away and hasn’t bothered to move quietly, but Nathan hasn’t reacted. Simon kneels beside his boyfriend and jams shaking fingers under Nathan’s jaw. Blood is pumping through Simon’s veins, heartbeat ratcheting up, but there’s no movement under the skin he’s pressing on.  
“Nathan!” Simon shakes him, even though he knows it’s useless. “Fuck, Nathan, please.”

He’s seen Nathan die so many times before. It doesn’t make it any easier.

There’s a small plastic bag beside Nathan. It contains remnants of white powder; when Simon picks up the bag he realises he recognises it. Nathan did ketamine at a club when he thought Simon wasn’t watching. Simon had to ask Kelly what it was.

The bag bursts when it hits the wall, powder drifting to the ground.

Simon has no idea which drugs have the same effect as ecstasy. Nathan could be dead, really dead, and Simon was too late to help him, again. He can’t remember how long the brain can survive without oxygen, or even how to do CPR properly. Simon takes his phone out, fumbling with it and nearly cracking the screen on the concrete. He doesn’t know what to do. Call Kelly? An ambulance? No, he’d never be able to explain it if Nathan came back to life. They can’t get anyone else involved yet.

Simon takes a deep breath, fighting back panic. He needs to get Nathan somewhere safe. He can take Nathan home with him, clean him up, and wait until he comes back. He has to come back.

When Simon moves Nathan into a better position to pick him up, Nathan’s phone drops to the ground. Simon takes it, unintentionally lighting the screen, which displays his five missed calls. Simon shoves the phone into his pocket and tries not to think about how, in a move that is equal parts sweet and irritating, Nathan has him listed as ‘Barry’ with a heart. Simon never thought Nathan would be the type to do that. If he thinks about it too much he’s going to cry, and that needs to wait until Nathan’s safe.

The last time Simon picked Nathan up, he’d held him against the wall of his bedroom. Nathan had wrapped his legs around Simon’s waist and kissed him, and the bruise he left on Simon’s neck had taken a week to disappear. That had been before Jamie.

He’s heavier like this. Dead weight.

It’s so dark that Simon doesn’t bother with invisibility once he’s away from the club. If anyone sees them, they’ll think Nathan’s passed out drunk. Even if Simon needed to keep them both out of sight, he’s not sure he could. It’s hard enough to maintain his own invisibility when he’s this out of control of his emotions. The blue tint to Nathan’s lips, obvious as they pass under streetlights, turns Simon’s stomach.

It doesn’t take long for them to get home, but by the time they make it there, Simon’s muscles are aching with the effort of carrying Nathan so far. Simon shifts Nathan slightly, trying to distribute the weight onto his shoulder so he can unlock the door with his free hand. Somehow he manages it without dropping Nathan. Simon carries Nathan to his bedroom and holds him up while he pulls back the blankets before laying him carefully on the bed. Nathan looks far worse under the artificial lights.

It becomes obvious how he’s died. Choking to death alone behind a club—Simon bites back a sob. He has to focus.

Nathan’s shirt is filthy and Simon knows he hates sleeping in jeans, but he still feels uncomfortable about taking Nathan’s clothes off when he’s not conscious. Simon pulls the blankets up over him like he always does when Nathan falls asleep in his bed, before he realises that Nathan’s not exactly going to feel the cold.

Simon doesn’t know how long it takes for Nathan to come back, if he’s going to at all. It’s late and freezing and Simon doesn’t know what to do, so he just leaves his shoes and shirt on the floor and curls up beside Nathan.

This could be the last time they share this bed. Simon pushes away the morbid thought as he shifts closer. Normally he’d be pressed against Nathan’s side, but it wouldn’t be the same without hearing his heart beating. With some space between them and the heat on, Nathan’s body is almost warm enough for Simon to pretend he’s alive.

If Nathan survives this, Simon’s going to tell him, like he should have done months ago. Simon tries it now, but it’s just a whisper in a dark room to a corpse. He moves closer to Nathan and wraps his arms around him, trying not to think about how he can’t feel Nathan breathing.

Simon wonders if it’s odd to find comfort in holding his dead boyfriend.

Despite the stress of the evening – or because of it – Simon’s slipping into sleep when Nathan bolts upright, gasping for air.

“Nathan?”

“What happened?” Nathan lies back down, gingerly touching the blood drying on his face.

Nathan might still be hurting but Simon has to touch him, to prove to himself that Nathan’s alive. Simon hugs him tightly, burying his face in Nathan’s neck, feeling the strong pulse of blood under his skin.

“Hey, what brought this on?” Nathan strokes Simon’s hair. “I thought I was the clingy one.”

“You were dead. I found your body.”

“Outside the club?”

“I thought you were going to stop.”

“Simon, can we talk later? I really need a shower.”

Simon lets go of Nathan and sits up, staring at him in disbelief. “I thought you were dead.”

“I’m immortal.” Nathan gets off the bed and picks up his jeans, leaving his shirt on the floor.

“Not if you’re on ecstasy.”

“I wasn’t.”

“ _I didn’t know that!_ ”

“Shit, Simon. I’m sorry, okay?”

“That’s what you said last time.”

“This time I mean it.”

Simon throws a spare shirt at Nathan and ignores his annoyed sound. Any urge to cry has quickly disappeared. As pissed off as Simon is right now, Nathan’s his boyfriend and he loves him. He has to have Nathan sleep here where Simon can take care of him—whether Nathan likes it or not. Talking doesn’t work, so Simon’s going to have to find another way of keeping Nathan in line. He has a tentative plan devised, and he’s finally pissed off enough to use it. Simon has to admit it’s a little self-serving, but Nathan’s not going to know.

Simon occupies his time by finding everything he’s going to need, then sits on the bed and waits, trying to calm himself with deep breaths. He’s not sure if it’s nerves or excitement making him so on edge.

It seems like barely five minutes when Nathan comes back in, wearing jeans and one of Simon’s rarely-worn t-shirts. The shirt is slightly too big even for Simon, and it hangs off Nathan’s slimmer frame. Simon forces himself to not look at the expanse of bare skin on show. The last thing he needs is a distraction.

Nathan sits on the bed opposite Simon, legs stretched in front of him.

Simon decides to give him one last chance. “Can we talk about it?”

“I’d rather fuck.” Nathan slides his foot up Simon’s leg.

“Fine.”

“Really?”

“Turn over.”

“What if I wanted to be on top?” Nathan complains but does as he’s told.

Simon takes a moment to appreciate the sight of Nathan sprawled out over his bed, t-shirt riding up to show a strip of skin above his jeans. It’s so tempting to just give in, have sex with Nathan like he wants, and forget this ever happened—but Simon can’t let this go.

Simon sits on Nathan, straddling his arse, and grabs Nathan’s wrists, pulling them behind his back and locking them together in one quick movement. The cuffs are padded leather; they won’t hurt no matter how much Nathan pulls against them.

“Simon, _wait_.” Nathan tugs ineffectually at the cuffs. “What are you doing?”

“If you want to stop, say ‘red’, understand?”

“I knew you had a kinky side,” Nathan mutters.

Simon shortens the chain between the cuffs, keeping Nathan’s hands together and making Nathan squirm under him.

“Nathan. Do you understand?”

“Yes! Jesus.”

Simon gets off him and tugs Nathan’s jeans and shorts down over his arse, then slides a pillow under his hips.

“Do you want to tell me what we’re doing? Because doggy style is a lot easier without the handcuffs.”

The first blow is light, just a warm-up, but it still makes Nathan yelp in shock.

“You won’t listen to me. If talking doesn’t work, I have to find something that does.” Simon waits until Nathan’s stopped moving to spank him again, and again.

Nathan makes a muffled noise into the sheets that Simon thinks might have been a badly-disguised moan. Blood is already tinting his skin pink and Simon’s lost count of how many times he’s hit him.

When Simon stops, caressing Nathan’s reddened skin, Nathan pushes back against his hand. Simon can’t help but smile at that; Nathan’s reacting exactly how he hoped. He just prays the next part will be taken this well.

Simon wraps the belt around his hand, leaving the end without the buckle hanging down. Nathan jolts and cries out as Simon brings the belt down on his arse.

“Still okay?” Simon gently rubs the red mark on Nathan’s arse. Before he decided to use the belt on Nathan, he’d tested it on his thigh to see what it felt like. The sharp sting didn’t disappoint him.

Nathan’s panting, not moaning anymore. “That fucking hurt. What was that?”

“Leather belt. And it’s supposed to.”

“Why?” Nathan whines.

“It’s a punishment.”

“I _said_ I was sorry.”

“Did you mean it?”

Nathan goes quiet.

“I want you to count them. You’re getting ten.” Simon strokes his hand down the back of Nathan’s thigh. “If you don’t agree to it, I’ll stop.”

“Fine.” Nathan sounds sulky. “Do it then.”

Simon tries not to let Nathan’s tone get to him, but his next hit with the belt is slightly harder than he intended. Nathan counts it in a manner that reminds Simon of a petulant child, but he couldn’t hide his whimper at the sting.

The next blow is with Simon’s hand. From his research, he knows it will give Nathan duller pain over a larger area—a break from the sharp snap of the belt.

“That’s two,” Simon reminds Nathan.

“It wasn’t with the belt.”

“It still counts.”

Nathan counts the next one, with a small moan that makes Simon half-hard in his shorts. Simon pulls Nathan’s hips up, moving him into a better position. He flicks the belt over Nathan’s thighs, marking him up even more. The pink blush spreading over Nathan’s skin is rapidly turning red.

“Four.” Nathan buries his face in the sheets, hiding the flush spreading over his face.

“Why are you being punished?”

“You’re possessive.”

Simon cracks the belt over Nathan’s arse again, making him cry out.

“I shouldn’t have overdosed.”

“Are you going to do it again?” Simon drops the belt and smacks him again.

“Six! No.”

“Five. You missed a count.”

Nathan groans in frustration and twists away when Simon pats his hip. He whines all the way through the sixth and seventh counts and Simon almost wishes he’d thought to buy a ball gag. He takes his frustration out on the next hit.

“Eight,” Nathan says, his voice choked with tears.

Simon drops the belt, suddenly unsure. He didn’t want to make Nathan cry. “We can stop if you want to.”

Nathan shakes his head, sniffling. Simon rubs his back, just to give him a break. He’s obviously decided to see this through, even though it’s been closer to fifteen or twenty hits by the time he reaches ten.

The next one is with Simon’s hand; Nathan counts it out, squirming away from the pain.

Nathan’s pretty when he’s hurt. His skin marks so easily Simon can almost trace his handprints. He lets the belt softly trail over Nathan’s arse, the sensation making Nathan squirm in anticipation. Simon doesn’t make him wait long.

Nathan practically screams when the belt hits him with a crack that even makes Simon wince.

“Ten,” Nathan sobs. “Simon, please, I’m sorry.”

“I know, it’s okay.” Simon fumbles with the cuffs in his rush to get them off. He drops them to the floor along with the belt.

He lies down and pulls Nathan against him, holding him tight. Nathan grips Simon’s shirt as he clings to him, gasping for breath through his tears.

“I’m sorry,” Nathan says again.

Simon doesn’t think that Nathan’s aware that he’s repeating himself, or that Simon can hear the sound of Nathan’s brother’s name, muffled against his chest. Simon just strokes Nathan’s hair and keeps quietly talking to him, constant reassurances that he’s not sure Nathan’s even hearing.

“It was my fault.”

“It wasn’t.”

“He would have been better off without me. Everyone who gets involved with these fucking powers ends up dead.” Nathan’s still sniffling occasionally but he seems to have calmed down.

Simon moves back a little and Nathan clutches at him.

“Let me take this off.” Simon pulls his tear-soaked shirt off and drops it off the side of the bed before holding Nathan again.

Nathan squirms in Simon’s arms, kicking his jeans off, then wraps his leg over Simon’s hip in an attempt to get as close as possible.

“I’m sorry.” Nathan’s tracing patterns on Simon’s skin, not meeting his eyes.

“For what?”

“Hurting you. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. Only myself.”

“Nathan—”

“It made me feel like I wasn’t immortal. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry too. If I went too far.” Simon gently strokes the reddened skin on Nathan’s thigh.

“Some warning would have been nice,” Nathan mumbles. He sounds half-asleep. “Now that’s enough feelings talk, alright?”

“I love you.” Simon’s cheeks heat up and he hides his face in Nathan’s hair. He feels Nathan stiffen in his arms.

“You don’t—”

“I want you to know. It doesn’t—you don’t have to—”

“I do, though,” Nathan cuts him off. “Just because I haven’t said it…”

Simon hugs Nathan a little tighter. Nathan presses a sleepy kiss to Simon’s collarbone then wriggles out of Simon’s arms to spread out across his side of the bed. The room is silent for a moment. Nathan’s still holding Simon’s hand, seeming to need the closeness. It’s not that late, but Simon can’t keep his eyes open.

“Barry?”

“Mm?”

“Pick a better safeword next time. ‘Red’ is boring.”

“Next time?”

“Yeah.” Nathan pauses and snuggles up to Simon. “You’re going to look amazing tied up.”

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism would be appreciated! Hope you enjoyed xx


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